


Northern Border

by Not_You



Series: It's Weird When Shaw Is Nice [19]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Family, M/M, Multi, Parental Feels, david saves the day, motherfucking ettins, unexpected, wounded on the job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's dangerous up there, son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Erik doesn't share his son's prescience, but when David shrieks in the night he knows what it is. It's the blackest hole of the winter, and he and Charles run blind, not wasting their time striking a light. Anya meets them in the hallway and they burst into the nursery together, where the nurse is futilely trying to hush David, who screams and will not be comforted. The twins join in as well with their own harmonizing shared wail at being woken up, thrashing in their crib. David is a crumpled white ball of misery, crammed down into the corner by his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest under his nightgown. Charles kneels and gathers him up even as he flails and kicks.

Charles is muttering something over and over and Erik assumes it's some comforting slosh until he crouches and can hear better, that's it's, "Tell us, dammit, tell us, screaming doesn't _help_."

"Father," David croaks, tears pouring down his face.

"I know," Erik says softly, feeling tears of his own building.

"Is he gone, David?" Anya whispers, and David nods, then shakes his head.

"He's out, but he doesn't have to stay and he's hurt and they can't find him."

Erik turns on his heel and stalks out, ears full of his rushing pulse. He feels faint. Erik never feels faint in times of crisis, and he would notice it more if he wasn't so intent on finding the little bone whistle with the Old Writing on it. As it is he snatches the thing up and sounds the long, eerie note. Azazel appears beside him, looking harried.

"My lady, we—"

"David knows. You're going to find Lord Shaw." He leads the way into the nursery and bundles David up against the northern cold that still clings to Azazel's fur cloak. David is much calmer now, blue eyes wide and grave. The twins are still crying, but more quietly now, settled in their nurse's arms in the rocking chair.

"Erik, what are you doing?"

"What has to be done. Azazel, anything that happens to our son will be over your dead body."

"Understood, my lady."

"Erik—"

"It's all right, Mother. I think I can find him if I can just get there."

Charles sighs, and kisses David's cheek. They all watch as Azazel gathers the child up and vanishes. Only then does the ringing rise up to fill Erik's ears as he pitches forward onto David's empty bed. Charles yelps and flies to his side, forgetting to pretend not to panic for Anya's sake.

"Erik?" Charles gently slaps him, trying not to put too much strength into it in his fear. "Erik!"

Erik blinks a moment later, sitting up only to fall back again, still dizzy. "I'm all right," he mutters, waving Charles off. The room is spinning a little, but he can bear that. In fact, it's all very familiar, and looking up into Anya's worried blue eyes is what lets him place it. The first symptom of carrying her had been the dizzy spells and fainting, and now he unconsciously puts a hand on his belly, wondering through the fear.

None of them sleep that night, sitting up and sipping warming drinks as they wait for Azazel and David to return. Anya sits between Charles and Erik, leaning on her mother and looking very like him with her sharp, wakeful gaze. It's morning by the clock but the moon is still high, bathing the land in blue-white light and illuminating farmers slogging through the snow to chill byres and wives rising to boil barley gruel, all unaware that they might even now be lordless. A soft bamfing of shadow magic and Azazel is back, David in his arms. It's his son's face that lets Charles know everything is all right. David beams at them, happy and placid and utterly sure. Azazel is more reserved, but has to admit that Sebastian is stable and mending.

"Is he as bad as he was after the night-hag?" Erik asks.

"No. No, I think his lordship will mend this one, even if it is slow going."


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian is an idiot. He is the single stupidest man ever born and if it wouldn't just kill Erik and Charles and all the children (all right, the twins won't even remember him, and isn't that just salt in the wound?) to lose him, he'd say he deserves to die right here. There was no fucking call for him to actually be on this detail, but missing children have always brought out the fool in him. It's a comfort to know that skinny little forest maid will live to fill out, though. He chuckles to remember her fierce cursing as she struck and bit at the ettin's hand, and coughs blood onto the snow.

"Oh, fuck me," he sighs, gazing up at the moon and pressing more snow to the wound in his side. It burns, which at least means he's bleeding to death more slowly than he has been. He's too damned old to survive this. Pitched over the fucking treetops by an ettin! He's still pretty shocked not to have died on impact. Seems like he should have. This is just drawing it out. He sighs, watching his breath steam away and wondering how much of it he has left. Everyone starts with a set number, puffed into their mouths before birth by the Mother of Secrets. He's had more than some, but it's said that everyone always tries to buy just one more. In some of the old stories you can with a perfect pearl, and in others fine singing can purchase enough for the song. He does have one of T'Challa's pearls for luck, somewhere in his myriad pockets and pouches. A person needs a lot of possessions in the north. Enough layers to stay alive, rations, good luck charms and grease for chapped skin. A good sharp knife for chopping ice, and plenty of firestarter. And better armor and quicker wits, in this particular case. He's starting to get comfortable, and that's the surest sign of all, that he's just going to sink on back into this snowdrift and leave the whole mess on Pietro's tiny shoulders. At least Erik will be a hell of a regent…

"Father!'

He blinks, surprised to start hallucinating this late in the game. He's already lost a lot of blood, it should've started before now if it was going to. Still, David is an agreeable vision. "David?"

"My lord." And it's Azazel's quiet voice that makes him think they might really be here. He manages to turn his head to see Azazel kneeling beside him, David in his arms.

"Charles'll murder me," he mutters, eyes dropping shut again, "letting the boy come out in this cold…"

"Seems like the ettin beat him to it."

"Oh, Father won't die now," David chirps, and is positively sunny during the whole grueling process of getting Sebastian onto a stretcher and back to camp. It hurts, but a lot of things have hurt, and it's good to have David alongside, telling him with the blithe assurance of childhood that he'll be just fine, and that Mother and Erik will probably be too relieved to be mad. He laughs and spits more blood.

"Well, you'll just have to soften them up for me."

That's the last thing he remembers before waking up in the surgery alone, insides all strung together with catgut and prayers. He lies still and remembers every other time. The direwolf bite that nearly gelded him when he was only sixteen, the snow fever, the time he had fallen through the river ice and nearly drowned… he coughs, very carefully, and grimaces, pawing for the pain-numbing potion someone is sure to have left for him. It's there, in its usual bottle of thick green glass, but there's also a folded scrap of paper beside it.

Sebastian takes the potion first, sighing as the pain recedes a bit and lets the muscles in his face relax, then squints at the paper.

 _I will mak Mother not be mad at you. Get wel sooon._ It's signed with a drawing of the sun, done in the bright, clear yellow paint they use to ring trees in high-monster areas . Sebastian smiles as he studies it. David's handwriting is excellent for a child his age, and Sebastian suddenly finds himself weeping to think that he might actually live to help the boy with his spelling.


End file.
